


Please

by chockfullofsecrets



Series: please and thank you [3]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Caleb Widogast Deserves Nice Things, Caleb Widogast Needs a Hug, Consent Negotiation, Gen, M/M, Tickling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-25 05:06:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30083907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chockfullofsecrets/pseuds/chockfullofsecrets
Summary: “Why, Mr. Caleb,” Molly purrs, pressing down just a hair more, “don’t tell me you’ve forgotten already.”He makes an adorably strangled noise. “I - I don’t-”“I told you I was going to make youaskthis time, didn’t I?”Molly finally gets the chance to do exactly what he wants, even if it's not as straightforward as he'd like it to be.
Relationships: Mollymauk Tealeaf & Caleb Widogast, Mollymauk Tealeaf/Caleb Widogast
Series: please and thank you [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2213484
Comments: 13
Kudos: 51





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Heavily inspired by [this fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29458878/chapters/72361251) because _how could it not be_

Molly’s been thinking about Caleb Widogast a lot, lately.

He thinks about him on cold evenings when their little group of assholes jostles for space around a fire, knowing that Caleb is on the other side staring just a little too intently at the flames. He thinks about him when he hears the clipped but entirely sincere affection that Caleb showers Nott and Jester with during long days of travel.

He thinks about him in one of the last moments before Lorenzo stabs that glaive through his chest too - wonders, stupidly, if this is going to be what sends Caleb running off into the woods and back to whatever pitiful life he lived before crawling his way far enough out to meet them.

And now, after a lot of bandages and spellcasting - and maybe a diamond, he’s still fuzzy on the details - he’s thinking about Caleb Widogast again. Largely because Caleb is currently sat up beside him in bed, keeping him company during his convalescence.

He might be in love - not because of all these stray thoughts, not today, at least - but because Caleb runs hot and makes a surprisingly good pillow and apparently that’s all it takes to earn Molly’s undying affection these days. He’s not above using the group’s misplaced guilt to demand as much cuddling as his still-healing chest will allow, and under the circumstances it seems like Caleb’s wisely decided not to protest Molly wrapping an arm around his waist and tangling their legs together underneath the blankets. 

It’s kind of blissful, the warmth of another body against his and the entwining scents of leather and ink where his face is tucked into Caleb’s side. Caleb’s propped up by pillows and nose-deep in a book, and though he’s supposedly keeping Molly company the comfortable quiet breeds such a soothing atmosphere that Molly’s sure he could drift straight back into sleep if he wanted to. 

He doesn’t, though. No, today he’s wide awake and aware of his surroundings. Specifically, the _very_ interesting way that Caleb tenses up every time Molly huffs out another breath into the little dip of flesh just above his left hip. 

He’s been trying to bide his time, is the thing - it feels like an intensely stupid stalemate, especially when he’s just been confronted with a rather harrowing reminder of his own mortality, but he’s trying to prove a point that Caleb seems equally stubborn in refusing to learn and it’s _frustrating_. Usually people either find him charming or tell him to fuck off, and Caleb’s gone and done both. It’s tempting to try and prod at him, find more buttons and push them until something happens, but - 

_Gods_ , it seems like he could use some peace. Maybe Molly could help him find it, if he’d stop being so repressed about literally everything. 

There’s a little clink of metal somewhere overhead. Molly lolls his head to one side, just enough to crack an eye open and-

Caleb’s taking his book holsters off. 

He strains his eye wider, trying to see without actually moving his head. Caleb _never_ takes them off, even when he’s sleeping - or unless the rest of his clothes are coming with - but there he is, unbelting the buckle on his chest and slipping the sturdy leather straps down one shoulder and then the other. He leans forward a bit, presumably pulling the rest out from behind his back, and there’s a quiet _thunk_ of the whole contraption being placed on the side table. 

The holsters have left imprints - creases where they’ve pressed in, patches of less worn fabric under Caleb’s arms and across his chest and back where the leather’s protected it from the elements. And from Molly’s fingers, the two times he’s tried to pry his way underneath to get at spots that Caleb seems desperate to protect.

And there they are now, inches from the tips of Molly’s fingers, _exposed_ -

Molly has to physically wrap his tail around one of his legs to hold it still.

Deliberately relaxing muscles that have tensed up entirely without his permission, he dares to turn his head a little more to get a better view. Caleb can’t - he can’t possibly be baiting him, the man barely has the sense of presence to stand up straight on most days. There’s no way. 

Right?

With one of his horns pressing uncomfortably into the mattress, he can just make out in the blurry peripheral of his vision the red tips of Caleb’s ears, the very intentional way that he’s not looking down at Molly or the book that’s still on his lap. Definitely deliberate, then. Interesting. 

Molly’s never liked being predictable - but, now that he thinks about it, he does recall teasing Caleb offhandedly about wanting to get his holsters off him. No doubt Caleb remembers it better than he does. An offer, then? A trap? More guilt?

He should know how to handle guilt, after being friends with Yasha, after being the first to die, but he’s never been a quick learner. 

He bites his lip. Thirty seconds. He’s going to wait thirty seconds, and then he’s probably going to do something stupid. 

As he counts off _fourteen-fifteen-sixteen_ in his head, struggling to keep his breathing steady with the thrill of potential mischief zinging down his spine to the tip of his tail, Caleb makes a sharp noise in the back of his throat and shifts to sit up. “I’m going to go, I think, you should rest-”

He gets one leg out of the blankets, but Molly’s already tightening his hold around his waist. Channeling his excitement into a pleasantly charlatan grin, he wriggles around until he can look up at Caleb. “You’re a terrible con artist, you know - frankly, I don’t know how you and Nott managed.”

Caleb’s eyes widen in a distinct impression of trapped prey, arms springing straight down to his sides. “Ah - well - I don’t know what you mean?”

“Really?” Caleb’s still making moves to leave, nervously shuffling his book onto the table and trying to get both feet onto the floor. Molly’s reflexes still have a bit of recovering to do, but he’s no wizard - it’s terribly easy to drag Caleb all the way back onto the mattress and climb up on top of him, straddling his thighs before he can do much more than yelp in surprise. “No, no, you’re not going anywhere,” he tells him. “You taking those holsters off has done terrible things to me and I’m going to have to return the favor.”

Caleb - Caleb _smirks_ , just the smallest lift at the corner of his mouth, and it’s so shocking that Molly nearly tumbles right back off him. “Maybe not such a bad con artist, then.”

“Hush, you,” Molly scoffs. He’s immediately upset with himself for not having a better rejoinder, but Caleb looks - excited, really, under the nervousness, a giddy smile stirring over his lips. It’s a good look on him, and Molly swears he can hear his heart beating faster in his ears as he pins Caleb’s upper arm down with one hand and hovers the other over the top of his ribcage, fingertips barely kissing the fabric of his shirt. “Well?”

Caleb is _definitely_ blushing now, but apparently he’s not done playing hard to get. “What?”

“Why, Mr. Caleb,” Molly purrs, pressing down just a hair more, “don’t tell me you’ve forgotten already.”

He makes an adorably strangled noise. “I - I don’t-”

“I told you I was going to make you _ask_ this time, didn’t I?”

Caleb stops smiling. 

It’s the barest of movement on the severe planes of Caleb’s face, but he doesn’t look excited anymore - he looks _scared_. His mouth works for a moment, forming syllables that don’t quite manage to make their way out, and something twitches uncomfortably in the back of Molly’s head. “Molly, I - I can’t.”

Stubborn. The thing is, that’s not _unusually_ stubborn for Caleb - Molly’s honestly at a bit of a loss, but despite his better judgment he reaches for the hem of Caleb’s shirt. Maybe flustering him a little will shake some of that exhilaration loose again. “‘Of course you can, dear, it’s just a few simple words-”

Caleb lashes out with his free hand, knocking Molly’s wrist away so forcefully that he almost punches himself in the dick. “ _No_ ,” he snaps, agitated, and then, even worse, immediately looks horrified with himself. “ _Scheiße_ \- no, fuck, I’m sorry-”

He cuts himself off, wide-eyed and breathing hard. Molly, wincing, hurriedly backs all the way off, lets go of Caleb’s arm and holds his hands up where he can see them and gets halfway through awkwardly climbing off him before he hesitates. 

“Hey,” he says softly, waiting through the long seconds it takes for Caleb’s pupils to contract a little and his breathing to slow. His eyes track slowly over to Molly, waiting. “Sorry. Um.” 

Caleb’s expression crumples as the last uncertain syllable trips its way out of his mouth. “I hurt you.”

Molly blinks. “What?” 

When that doesn’t prompt further explanation, he holds his wrist out and flexes it demonstratively. “Caleb, dear, no offense, but you’re not nearly strong enough for that.” Caleb huffs at that, looking a little less pained, and Molly plows on. "Besides, you’re perfectly welcome to shove me off if I’m making you uncomfortable. Speaking of - if I get off you, are we going to talk about this, or are you going to run away and find a dark corner to skulk in?”

“A dark corner sounds pretty appealing,” Caleb says wryly. He doesn’t seem to have any further plans to move, though, so Molly gingerly settles back over his legs and waits for his expression to work its way back to normal. They sit like that for a while, Molly’s tail snaking gently around one of Caleb’s knees, until Caleb finally sucks in an uncomfortable breath and looks away. 

“I cannot say that there is much to talk about here, though - clearly I cannot be trusted-”

Ah. _There’s_ the guilt.

“Clearly,” Molly cuts him off, “you’ve never learned how to explain yourself in a way that gets you _out_ of trouble.”

Caleb bristles. “You don’t understand what I’ve done.”

Molly rolls his eyes. “No, but I get the feeling you don’t really want to tell me. Which I’m fine with, by the way.” He leans in, trying to catch Caleb’s gaze. “What I _do_ want to know, exactly, is why I’m not tickling you to pieces right now.”

_That_ gets the reaction he’s looking for - Caleb goes abruptly still, eyes darting to meet his, and tenses up like he’s trying to flatten himself against the bed. Molly smiles despite himself. “Let’s start easy, shall we - you _did_ want me to tickle you, right?”

He’s worried for a moment that it’s too close to what set Caleb off in the first place - it’s nearly impossible for him _not_ to tease, with Caleb laid out under him like this - but Caleb takes a deep breath and rallies, his accent stumbling over the words. “You - you already were, a bit - I thought you might want to.”

“Oh, you noticed?” Emboldened, Molly reaches for the divot just above Caleb’s hip, the cloth still warm where he’d buried his face in it, and worries his thumb briefly over the sharp edge there. “And you would have been all right with it, if I had?”

Caleb’s breath hitches. “I - ah - yes?”

“Good, good.” 

Caleb’s tummy is surprisingly soft for a man who often resembles nothing so much as a rather muddy stick - he’s been eating better since the first time Molly’s done this, it seems, which given the quality of journeying food and the fact that Caleb tends to dump half of his plate onto Nott’s is honestly a bit concerning. The point being, there’s a lovely little curve to it now before it disappears into the waistband of his trousers, and Molly is more than happy to flutter his fingertips along its underside until the entire thing quivers with the force of Caleb’s suppressed snickers. “Hhh - _heh_ \- _hm_ -”

Caleb practically whimpers as the tickling stops this time, to Molly’s utter delight, jerking his hips up lightly as Molly lifts his hand away. He’s getting redder by the second, his ears and cheeks flushed. “Are - are you going to-”

It’s almost as much fun as the actual tickling, prying away the layers of bitter solemnity that Caleb wraps around himself like a shield, and Molly is so _immensely_ frustrated that he has to try and be mature right now. “Not yet,” he soothes, and lays a calming hand down over Caleb’s belly. “Tell me why you don’t want to ask me to.”

Caleb looks like he’s going to panic again - Molly slides his hand up and presses lightly against his chest, trying to ground him with the pressure. “Tell me,” he says again. “Take your time, but I need to know how to make you feel safe. You should feel safe.”

“I shouldn’t,” Caleb says automatically. 

Fucking guilt-ridden wizards - Molly briefly considers using his free hand to slap him upside the head, but again, he’s trying to prove a point here. “Okay, forget the deserving. Tell me anyways.”

“I-” Caleb falters. Molly waits, letting him look away and try to gather the pieces. “It’s - when you - it feels a little like I’m losing my mind, you know?”

Of course Molly knows - has spent many pleasurable stretches of time losing his own mind to clever fingers and merciless teasing, in fact, and would do it again in a heartbeat. “You don’t like it?”

Caleb frowns. “That’s not the point.” Molly would beg to differ, but Caleb is already going on. “The things I’ve done, without thinking - I do not want.” He pauses. “I _cannot_ want to be out of control like that. Mindless.”

“But you can let it happen to you?”

Caleb’s eyes, blue and unbearably sharp as he speaks of terrible things, go dull with shame. “I shouldn’t. It’s just-” His lips twist in a raw imitation of a smile as he looks back up. “You are very convincing, sometimes.”

He falls silent, then. Molly chews at the inside of his cheek and thinks for a moment.

There’s a lot here, certainly, and he’s going to have to get drunk with someone and try to figure it out eventually - gods, he’s going to be upset if this is what he bonds with Beau over, but she seems to have a better grasp of Caleb than anyone but Nott. As for what applies to this situation - “There’s a reason for that,” he says lightly. “Caleb. Darling. Have you, perhaps, considered that it’s hard to convince yourself not to like getting tickled because it has _absolutely fucking nothing_ to do with whatever you’re actually feeling guilty about?”

Caleb blinks. “It does, though. Everything does.”

He sounds less certain of it than he did before, at least. “Impossible. We’ve done this before. I tickle you, you make some adorable attempts at not being hysterical, and no one’s the wiser. I’m not asking you to let me have _control_ over you, if that’s not what you want. If you tell me to stop, I’ll stop. Do you believe me?”

Caleb’s wide-eyed and stiff under him, after all that, but Molly catches the edge of a nearly imperceptible nod. 

“Good. I don’t-” He pushes his tongue against his teeth, reluctant. “I’m not trying to force you to do anything. I just want you to do something nice for yourself, for once - and I know you’re going to say you don’t deserve it, but. Just. Put the past aside for five minutes and think about what you’ve done for us, recently, learning how to cast that dome of yours and keep us safe.” He squeezes Caleb’s knee with his tail. “What you’ve done for me, keeping me company today.”

He can’t help but smirk, then. “What you’re _going_ to do for me, even, if you tell me you’re okay with this.”

“Okay,” Caleb says, low and raw, his eyes sliding shut for a long moment. “Okay.”

Molly doesn’t think he’s heard a sweeter word in his entire life.

He _beams_ , wriggling happily for a moment before returning his full attention to Caleb. “So,” he says, as casually as he can while ignoring the way his tail is twitching into increasingly tight circles behind him, “did you want me to tickle you or something?”

Caleb says the word like a prayer. “ _Please_.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Thank you,” Molly says, benevolent as he can while grinning like the devilish figure he is, and leans over to plant a kiss on his forehead. 

Caleb screws his face up like a child about to have his cheeks pinched. “Hey, hey, that’s not - _gah_! - hah, eheh - _Mohoholly_! -”

Molly rocks back onto his haunches and looks down to where he’s wriggling his fingers mercilessly into Caleb’s sides. “Oh? You didn’t think we were starting right now?”

He remembers it taking a while to really crack Caleb up, but this entire ordeal seems to have worn away any resistance - he busies himself tickling his way up Caleb’s torso one defenseless rib at a time, poking and prodding from his sternum all the way around to the sides of his back, and Caleb just collapses bonelessly onto the mattress and laughs and laughs like it’s the only thing he knows how to do anymore. “Hahahah, _hah_ , nohoho! Ihi - ihihit - ”

“Tickles?” Molly completes, just to watch him squirm even more. “Hey, when’s the last time someone tickled the tops of your ribs?”

“I don’t know,” Caleb gasps. He rolls to his left to try and protect a particularly bad spot on his back that Molly promptly digs into with reckless abandon. “Wh - _haha, hahaha!_ \- why?”

“Just curious.” Molly shrugs. “If you’re this ticklish down here-” He rubs his knuckles back and forth over a particularly sensitive rib until Caleb _shrieks_. “Just imagine how it’s going to feel when I do this right up there under your arms, huh?”

“Oh, ohoho - _gods_ ,” Caleb gasps out between helpless peals of laughter, and promptly flings his arms over his face. Molly nearly pouts - he _likes_ seeing people’s faces when he tickles them, wants to watch Caleb in particular lose every ounce of composure he has, but he’s pretty sure that he’s pushed him far enough for today.

Although - well, if he’s just going to leave himself open like that - 

He brushes a fingertip into each of Caleb’s armpits, light and unassuming, and Caleb sputters as his elbows twitch involuntarily downwards. “Wait - no, nohot there,” he rushes out, newly panicked in a way that makes something low in Molly’s belly wriggle excitedly, “That’s not fair, Molly, _please_ -”

Molly pulls his hands back the barest inch. “Is that your way of telling me to stop?”

Caleb’s elbows inch back up, but he’s tellingly silent. Molly goes right back to the same feather-light strokes until Caleb’s shuddering from head to toe - and oh, feathers, that’s an interesting thought to come back to later. “Hm, no? You just wanted to let me know that you like it when I’m being unfair?”

“ _No_ ,” Caleb pleads. He’s barely even laughing anymore, just making hitched, desperate little noises as he rocks from side to side under Molly’s hands. “This is - worse, this is the _worst_ , Molly, _please_ -”

“Well,” Molly says, wholly amused. “Look who’s learning to ask for what they want. Sure, I’ll be a little less terrible.” He skims his thumbs down Caleb’s skinny biceps instead, squeezing his shoulders and rubbing tickly little circles into his armpits. 

Caleb squeaks and bursts out laughing again, a staccato _thump-thump-thump_ starting up behind them as he kicks his legs frantically. “Hahaha! - no! I just - nohohot there, _anywhere_ but there-” 

He reaches down clumsily for Molly’s wrist with one hand, baring a swathe of red cheeks and a beaming smile that’s at once entirely new and completely at home on his face. Molly just laughs at him and drags his thumbs downwards, kneading at the top of Caleb’s ribcage -

His fingers dip just below the faded imprint of holsters and Caleb _screams_ , his hands flying down to plaster themselves against his sides. Molly’s so shocked that he stops tickling entirely, pulling his hands free and holding them uselessly in front of him. “Shit - Caleb? Don’t panic, it’s just me-” 

Caleb blinks at the ceiling, looking surprised by its sudden appearance. Then he has the _audacity_ to peek shyly over at Molly, like he’s somehow gone blind and deaf and just missed Caleb losing his entire shit.

Molly stares. This is - he’s - he’s going to kill Caleb, actually, because if he keeps reacting like _that_ Molly is never, ever going to stop tickling him. 

He shakes his head, focusing back in on what he’s _very much_ still in the middle of. “Well now,” he purrs, drinking in the way Caleb’s eyes widen as he leans back in. He’s grinning like an absolute asshole and he can’t even bring himself to care. “That kind of defeats the point of taking those things off in the first place, doesn’t it? Though I can make do- ” He worms his hands back onto Caleb’s ribs, pushing easily past his skinny arms, and squeezes, just once, hard enough to make Caleb jump. 

He’s not even tickling yet, really, but Caleb is vibrating like every single one of his muscles is on a hair trigger. “Just -” He chokes the words out through a nervous grin that keeps twitching into something realer at the edges. “Ah, ha - a moment, no - ha! - no tickling, just a moment, please-” 

Molly pauses obligingly, half expecting Caleb to cash in on the promise of leniency right then and there. He doesn’t think he’s seen him this wrecked outside the aftermath of that tense, quiet, emptiness he buries himself in after using his fire - and this is different, sure, and Molly certainly doesn’t want to stop, but then again he’s not the one who’s pinned down and helpless here.

Caleb’s beet red and still leaking little hitched giggles between his wheezed attempts at breathing, but as Molly prepares himself to back off he manages to pry his hands from where they’re wrapped around his stomach and tentatively rests them on Molly’s knees, splaying his elbows outwards. “There, I - this should work, I think.”

Molly feels suddenly, unbearably proud in a way that suffuses his entire chest with warmth. “You really do like this, don’t you?”

Caleb’s hands twitch halfway up to his face before he stops himself and puts them back onto Molly’s knees. “I. Ah. I don’t know if I can say it.”

“That’s fine,” Molly says, meaning it entirely, and then grins as he has a _terrible_ idea. “Hey, you want to do something fun?”

Caleb knows enough about him by now to be cautious. “Probably not.”

“I think,” Molly continues on, heedless, that we can safely assume that you’re very, _very_ , ticklish just about here.” He pokes once at Caleb’s top rib and gets immediately rewarded with a helpless little laugh that sends shivers all the way down his back. “So, for safety, I think we should put a time limit on this. Say… one minute?”

“Oh, no,” Caleb says instantly, indignantly horrified. “You are - you’re mocking me, you complete-”

“Oh, yes,” Molly rejoins, snickering at Caleb’s utter embarrassment. “Let me know when the time’s up, dear.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Caleb says, but at that point Molly’s already reaching for him and he doesn’t plan on letting him say anything else for a nice long while. 

Caleb explodes into loud, infectious laughter the second Molly latches onto his ribs, which does _very_ nice things to the pleasantly squirming feeling in Molly’s belly, but there’s a problem - as Caleb struggles to keep his arms out, he’s shoving and kneading at Molly’s knees and the tops of his thighs with all the strength he can muster. 

Which, as it turns out, _really fucking tickles_. 

Molly goes from laughing at Caleb to just laughing in a matter of seconds - his knees aren’t even that bad of a spot, usually, but as the realization sinks in that Caleb has no idea what he’s doing to him, that he’s going to _keep_ doing it until Molly stops tickling him, it's nearly too much to handle. He digs his knees into the mattress, struggling to stay upright - he wants to double over and try to protect himself, or worse, to roll over and beg Caleb to tickle him instead. It’s _torture_.

He keeps squeezing Caleb’s ribs largely on autopilot as he laughs himself silly, and finally, blessedly, Caleb rips his hands away and uses them to latch onto Molly’s wrists instead. “That’s - haha, _hahaHA,_ , AH! - a minute, one - one - eheh! ha! - fucking _stop_ -”

Molly stops, a little breathless himself and just reckless enough from the sudden onslaught of tickling to drag his fingers down to worry at Caleb’s sides. “You sure? I know you’re not great at keeping track of time like this, maybe we should do another minute just in case- ”

Caleb, still holding his wrists and choking out pleas for mercy, swears loudly and snaps his fingers. Something soft hits Molly in the shoulder and, overbalanced and knock-kneed as he is, it’s enough to pitch him right over onto Caleb’s chest.

He lands comfortably enough and it's probably not worth getting up at this point, so Molly doesn't bother. Frumpkin hops down from his back, meowing fussily, and butts his head against Caleb’s shoulder until Caleb catches his breath and reaches up to pet him. “Good cat,” he says, tiredly, and then “please go make sure that the rest of the inn isn’t planning to kill us, thank you.”

Molly hums contentedly as the cat claws the doorknob open and slips out into the hallway - Caleb’s still running warm, and he’s not capable of much more right now than nuzzling into his chest and waiting for his brain to start working again. “If you wanted to cuddle, you could have just asked me.”

Caleb sighs heavily, one hand still clutching Molly’s wrist. “I wanted to be able to breathe again,” he says dryly, “and I’m not sure this has accomplished it.”

“Too bad,” Molly says, wrapping his knees around Caleb’s waist as best he can where they’re still bent up behind him. “You’re warm and I’m staying here.”

Caleb breathes in slowly, his chest rising against Molly’s, and occasionally shifts a little like he’s trying to get comfortable. “Mister Mollymauk,” he says after a while, “are you ticklish?”

Molly surreptitiously scoots his knees out of reaching distance. “A little,” he allows, trying and failing not to wriggle as Caleb hums in acknowledgement. “Why do you ask?”

Caleb chuckles, setting his chest into vibrations that have Molly rumbling out a purr in response. “Your knees,” he tells him. “I thought you were laughing too.” He can’t see Caleb’s face, but the droll twist in his voice is endearingly apparent. “I was hoping that it was not entirely at my expense.”

Molly snorts. “Maybe it was - you’re fun to watch.”

“Oh,” Caleb says, pleasantly embarrassed - Molly can practically hear him blush. “I just meant - that if you also like - ah.” He huffs. “I know that I am. Hard to deal with, sometimes, and on this particular instance - and _only_ on this - I can. Appreciate your interference.” 

“You’re welcome,” Molly sing-songs into his shoulder. 

“I would be happy to return the favor,” Caleb continues, awkward but earnest, and _oh_ , if that doesn’t make Molly’s heart leap as his toes curl in involuntary anticipation. “If there is anything that you would like me to do - to you? I’m not sure-”

And now _Molly_ ’s the one blushing, sprawled across a man who’s casually offering to tickle him into oblivion. “Surprise me,” he says, wincing as his voice cracks on the last word. “Maybe when I’m not an invalid falling asleep every couple hours.” 

Speaking of - he’s been shifting around, trying to settle into a comfortable position, and finally he nuzzles into Caleb’s jaw fully prepared to take his next nap then and there. Caleb’s chest hitches in a way that Molly now intimately recognizes as him trying to hide laughter, and his jaw practically drops as he shoots up in a way that the scar on his chest isn’t entirely pleased with. “Wait, shit, I forgot about your neck-”

Caleb gasps a few times, eyes squeezing shut, and then dissolves into giggles even though Molly’s not actually tickling him yet. It’s clearly more giddiness than anything else, and completely adorable besides, but Molly figures it’s only polite to ask if he’s all right. 

“It’s - _ehe, heh_ \- it’s not funny,” Caleb wheezes, and promptly starts laughing even harder. “I don’t know - _ha_ \- I can barely move and - _hee_ \- and you’re - _haha_ \- going to tickle me again - ”

“Yep,” Molly says, and flops back down on top of Caleb to let him laugh himself out. “One hell of a feeling, huh?” He’s too lazy to tickle Caleb more, in the moment, so he just lays there and idly sneaks his fingers into Caleb's armpits when he tries to cover his face again. Which makes him squeak and squirm and keep trying, which makes Molly wiggle his fingers more - all in all, it’s a cycle that he’s very pleased with. 

Caleb starts to hiccup, eventually, and Molly reluctantly stops messing with him and moves to rub his chest instead - it’s a daunting proposition, given that said chest is currently Molly’s pillow, but he shuffles to one side and does his best. “Breathe,” he advises, and _wow_ , he doesn’t think he’s ever been so tired that his voice has slurred like that before. Being injured _sucks_.

He mumbles out something to that effect and blearily feels someone - Caleb, probably, there’s no one else here - take his hand. “Rest, you menace,” a horribly fond voice echoes from somewhere far over his head and then coughs. “I’ll be here for you to torture when you wake up.”

Really, there’s no better thought to fall asleep to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! If you're so inclined, come say hi on [tumblr](https://chockfullofsecrets.tumblr.com)!


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